Cool women, good stories

Movies aren’t miracles

I have long believed that film has the ability to change the world.  I wrote in my 2002 and 2004 applications to graduate schools in film and dramatic writing that I wrote scripts “with the intent to provoke a time of serious comtemplation in the life of everyone who heard [my words].” I believed that as a screenwriter, I would “have great power” to influence society.

 

I still believe that art, of all kinds, can change the world.  I have to, or else everything I do is moot.  I won’t act as though my motives for pursuing my artistic dreams have ever been 100 percent selfless; I like having a long list of awards on my résumé, and I’ve had acceptance speeches for world reknown awards shows in mind for a long time. But my primary goal of using popular art forms as avenues for social change hasn’t altered.

 

I’ve begun to wonder, however, if the goal is too lofty when it comes to cinema—at least to the movies released by major studios and to the films that get the widest distribution. My doubt not only sprang from knowing the state of Hollywoodfor black filmmakers and knowing the dismal revenues (see #6) of the film industry in general.  It also stems from social media chatter reflecting how much the viewing public has expected of films as of late.

 

It appears that for some films, we’ve moved beyond entertainment for entertainment’s sake.  If a black film—that is, a film in which the majority of leading roles are played by black actors or a film written and/or directed and/or produced by African-Americans—is playing nation wide, the script better be tight, the performances award-worthy, the visual and sound editing flawless, the cinematography stunning and the director’s genius evident.  If set before 2012, it better be historically accurate, even if it’s not a documentary.  No “demeaning” or morally bad (also known as morally complex, character-driven) roles are allowed. And if the filmmaker wants to make social commentary, he or she better say that black heterosexual love is beautiful; black women are in no way angry, whorish or incapable of pleasing black men; black men don’t kill one another; black men never mistreat women who also happen to be black; the black nuclear family unit is strong and intact; and “the” black community, no matter what city, town or era the movie is set in, is full of these beautiful, strong, married, man-led, proud, Afro-centric families who live in unity and who, were it possible that dramatic conflict could occur in this utopia, would overcome their obstacles without any help from anyone who’s not in their utopia.

 

(And I’m willing to bet anything that if the latest wave of independent films that expand the definition of “the black experience in America” don’t leave negative stereotypes, especially those about black families and relationships, out of the story, their films will come under the same scrutiny as those in wide release.)

 

People, stop this. Please.

 

If we’re making these kinds of analytical arguments, then I guess film is doing the job I thought it could do, but is it fair to ask it to do that? As an artist, I feel like film has a responsibility to encourage critical thinking and promote cultural awareness and social change.  But as someone who just doesn’t want to have to think that damn deep all the time and who sometimes wants to just be entertained, I feel like we put too much pressure on the big screen.

 

By all means, expect and demand that the writer, director, cinematographer, audio engineer, actors, costume designer, dialect coach—every person in the credits—performs his or her craft with excellence.  This is the same thing each of those people should demand of themselves.  And yes, black audiences should demand that screen versions of the black experience inAmericanot continually cast blacks as savages who deserved to be enslaved.

 

But don’t limit your high expectations to black movies.

 

Be a critic.  Write your own version of Roger Ebert’s Your Movie Sucks.  Every time a movie sucks, say it.

 

Because then, maybe more movies like Pariah, Precious, Love Jones or just about anything you might see at Sundance but won’t see at a multiplex in the midwest, would get financed more readily and released more widely. And maybe we wouldn’t have to hype black movies that may not deserve the hype because we no longer fear that no black movies, or no good movies, will be made ever again if we don’t.

Words matter to equality

The BBC reports that Cesson-Sevigne, a town in France, has banned “Mademoiselle” as a form of addressing women. Noting that “men of all ages become ‘monsieur’ as soon as they grow out of shorts,” the town’s mayor, who ran on a platform of sexual equality, and feminists who support him say there should be one way to address women.

I’m sad to say I hadn’t really thought about the dichotomy here until I read the news story, although I have experienced it. We have our Miss, Mrs. and Ms. distinctions in U.S. English, too. I remember trying to guess what salutation to use when addressing—by hand!—an appointment reminder card or some other such thing to a female research participant. My research partner said “Ms.,” the neutral term, was my safest bet, in case the “Mrs.” status she had checked when she filled out the interest form several months earlier had since changed. I’ve cringed and insisted men who call me, “ma’am” address me by my first name or even as, “Ms. Williams,” instead.  Men have used the greeting/question, “And you are Mrs. …?” to conspicuously (because it really is obvious) and flirtatiously find out if I’m married. Last year, a sales clerk, a woman who was probably twice my age, approached me from behind with, “Excuse me, ma’am?” When I turned around, she said, “Oh, you’re not a ma’am. You’re a miss! I’m a ma’am.” And during my one-week stint as a telemarketer selling magazine subscriptions, I made one of my best sales by addressing the woman who answered the phone as “Mrs.” the day after she had just snagged an engagement ring. (Man, was she proud of that rock!)

In each experience the salutation applied to me or to the woman I was addressing reflected my or her age, our marital status and the level of respect I should receive or that I should give, and yet none of these things should matter to two strangers meeting. Granted, if your intentions are coquettish or more suggestive, marital status should matter. But in general, when people first meet, when there’s a sale to be made, or when a fleeting courtesy greeting is needed, marital status and age shouldn’t bear any weight on the interaction or on much else.

And yet they do, especially for women. Women of a certain age should be respected but should also be sad that they are no longer young. In certain career fields, they should worry about whether they can continue working while men of the same age in the same fields don’t have that concern. Unmarried women are made to wonder what’s wrong with them. Married women get offended when not addressed as Mrs. Meanwhile, a Mr. is a Mr. forever and no matter what, and a few letters before his name don’t make the first impression.

As Dr. Penelope Gardner-Chloros, professor of applied linguistics at Birkbeck University, said in the aforementioned piece, “[Language] is a sensitive indicator of the distinctions that a society makes—so if it is important to know if a woman is married or not, then it will be indicated in language.”

Yes, there are more pressing issues regarding gender equality to address than salutations, but I appreciate Cesson-Sevigne’s insight into how language reflects our culture. So, why are you saying what you’ll say today?

Another “F” voice emerges in 2012

I can’t control what people think of me as a person or as a writer, but some emails I’ve received since my last C-J editorial indicate misperceptions may abound. So, I want to start Redbone Afropuff’s year with a few clarifications:

1. I’m pro-choice.
2. I don’t believe in promise rings.
3. I meant what I said when I wrote, “You’re a child, and you shouldn’t be having sex. I say that not in judgment of your morality or your worth as a human being…” I think teens shouldn’t be having sex simply because their brains and emotions are not ready for the attachments and potential consequences of sex in the modern world. Humans are fertile at a very young age—as tweens and teens. And when Earth was essentially empty and we died young, that was an asset. We had to have kids early and a have a bunch of them. But now that we’re 7 billion strong, live a long time and have things to do like learn, work and travel wherever we want to, teen pregnancy is a hindrance, as are STDs that can keep girls and boys from living a full life. And the attachment hormones females release during sex can make a girl so attached to a knucklehead that she’ll defer her life’s plans for him, change who she is for him. I do turn my nose up at women whose sex tapes launched them into super-stardom, and I think “It just sorta happened” really does show poor judgment (that underdeveloped brain I was talking about). But I do not believe a girl’s or woman’s level of sexual purity is the scale by which we should measure her value to the human race.
4. Healthy sexuality is part of my brand of feminism. Yep, I’m one of those F-ist women. My opinions are varied and diverse, based on life experience, formal and informal research, observation, and the wisdom of hindsight. And while some think my last column meant I burned my feminist card, I want to be clear: I didn’t.

I’m defining my voice and brand in 2012 as I continue my vision of fighting sexism, racism and their resulting social injustices. I hope you’ll stay on the journey with me, and if you share in that vision, I hope you’ll invite me to go to battle with you.

Happy New Year!

Looking for Plan B: An open letter to girls

To a 16-year-old girl who wants to buy Plan B-One over the counter:

Someone in the Obama administration you’ve probably never even heard of made an unprecedented decision concerning you last week.

U.S. Health and Human Services Department Secretary Kathleen Sebelius decided that Plan B One-Step, which you probably know as the “morning after pill,” should not be available to you without a doctor’s prescription. Scientists in the Food and Drug Administration spent 10 months poring over charts, figures and studies about the drug, and they decided it’s safe “for all females of child-bearing potential.”

I want you to note that the FDA said the morning after pill is safe for all females, not all women. You’ve been female since before you were born, but you’re not a woman yet. (Read the rest at The Courier-Journal)

Pick your paternalism poison

In his column, “America’s obsession with missing white women,” Miami Herald writer Leonard Pitts asserts that the incessant news coverage of the latest young, pretty missing white woman is a “back-handed compliment” and the latest form of a “certain condescending paternalism” that casts white women as helpless damsels in need of rescue or of protection.

I read his column after I attended a lecture by Pearl Cleage in which she talked about domestic violence. And after I saw a staging of her book, “Mad at Miles: A Black Woman’s guide to truth,” also about the intimate partner abuse black men inflict upon black women. And after I read of a report which found that 60 percent of black girls are sexually assaulted by black men before the age of 18. I’m writing this post after viewing the trailer for “The Purity Myth,” a documentary that examines why a woman’s worth is still determined by her virginity or promiscuity.

 

Now that you know the context, I’ll ask the question: If a back-handed compliment says your life is cherished and that you are valued above all others, is it really just an insult?

 

While white men are throwing white girls parties as grand as weddings to celebrate their virginity, black males are raping or otherwise abusing black girls. (Yes, I know those are simplistic, broad, generalized statements and that most crime is intraracial, so there are plenty of white men raping white girls, but go with it for a minute please.)

 

Is it paternalistic to have girls who barely know what sex is pledge to remain virgins until marriage and delusional for fathers to believe they can protect their daughters once they are adults and leave the house? Yes. But does it have no redeeming qualities, and is it worse than the other extreme?

 

Both sexual assault and purity pledges teach girls to be ashamed of their bodies. In both cases, secrecy abounds because of the shame. Both are about men taking a woman’s power over her body away from her, and both can take a long time to get over.

 

But one is the result, I believe, of fear of women’s sexuality and of misguided but genuine love and care while the other is the result of anger, aggression, violence and hate.

 

While I have to question the results of a survey with a small sample size (300) and have to acknowledge abuse of every kind happens in white communities, too, my weekend with Ms. Cleage’s words capped off with Pitts’s column forces me to ask not why we’re not as valued by our own—history makes those answers obvious—but rather, in spite of history, how can we not be?

 

Even if white women are insulted by paternalism in the form of media attention, they benefit from it immensely. No men of any race have the right “to police the sexuality of ‘their’ women,” but if I could pick my paternalism poison, it would be nice if all black women felt genuine love and care from all the black men around them and if an obcession with their welfare could be played out in the media.

 

Baby do or baby don’t?

Story #1: Educated, career-oriented American women falsely assume they can easily conceive children when they’re in their 40s.

 

Story #2: An unemployed, probably uneducated and possibly bipolar American woman easily conceives and bares 15 children with 3 different men and then demands that the state take care of them.

 

I read, listened to and watched these stories on the same day, one right after the other. While I guess I should be thankful to live in a country where women and men can put off having children just as easily as they can make 15 of them, demand the state help take care of them and forego their (well, the father’s, in this case) responsibility to take care of 2 of them, somethin bout this just ain’t right.

 

I guess what’s wrong is the ease with which we demonize the women in either story and how easily the men in these stories are let off the hook.  Some organizations are actually calling for public service announcements to inform women that fertility doesn’t last forever and that they should have babies at prime healthy fertility time—when they’re in their 20s.  An NPR listener with the alias “RealityCheck” commented, “If a woman wants children, she needs to resign herself to the reality that for quite a few years, her children need her pretty much full time. Mothering should not be considered a part-time job. Too many women think they are entitled to a demanding, fulfilling career and children. They’re not. Once they decide to become a mother, that’s their job until the children are old enough to take care of themselves.”

 

Need her full time, not their dad.  Raising children is her job, not the father’s.

 

I wonder if RealityCheck has kids and if so, do they know who he is?  Do they like him?

 

Another listener, 33-year-old Brian Thompson, wants to get married and have a family and to allow about 5 years of relationship-building so that he’ll know his wife or girlfriend well before even bringing up the topic of maybe starting a family.  He’s limiting his dating pool to women in their 20s because after 5 years of working on a relationship, those mid-30s eggs inside women who are ready to be married and have a family will just be too old.  Brian said, “Everywhere I turn, women in their twenties prioritize casual relationships, saying they ‘aren’t looking for anything serious right now.’ I wish these women would grow up and stop squandering their fertility.”

 

Really?  Um, Mr. Thompson, what were YOU thinking about when you were in YOUR 20s?  Sex?  Condoms?  Graduating from college?  A career?  Probably.  Something serious?  Probably not.  So why would you expect a woman in her 20s to be ready for the things you weren’t studying 10 years ago?  Just because a woman is biologically in her prime for motherhood?  PSA to all the Brian Thompsons out there, a woman’s biological readiness for a lifetime of responsibility does not necessarily correlate with her emotional and spiritual maturation for the same commitment.  Whatever age you are, yoke up with somebody on your level!

 

Or don’t, and have an Angel Adams.

Mother of 15.  She’s 37, and her oldest child is 11, which means she started having them at perfect fertility ripeness.  And is she getting glory for choosing to be a full-time mom?  A show on TLC about her growing family?  No.  She’s getting jail time for refusing to tell a judge whether or not she’s pregnant again, and her kids are in foster care.  Her fiancé, father of 10 of her children, is in jail.  The father of 2 of her children doesn’t want them.

 

Guess he’s just not the Brian Thompson type.

 

I’m sorry the father of 10 of them is in jail, and maybe I should cheer him for being a fiancé instead of a boyfriend, but I wonder, what were you thinking after, say, baby number 5?  I give you more credit than I do RealityCheck, but before lockup, had you made raising your kids your full-time responsibility?

 

Adams seems to love her kids and to have wanted every single one of them.  But in our wonderful world she’s as stupid as the 53-year-old Real Housewife who thought her missed period indicated pregnancy instead of the onset of menopause.

Let the hate show

When I read yesterday that Gulnare Free Will Baptist Church, a church in my lovely state of Kentucky, voted to ban interracial couples from its congregation, I thought, “So much for post-racial America.”  While I was appalled, shook my head, and joined in with the “And they call themselves Christians,” chorus, I felt some vindication for all those times I or more famous black commentators have been scoffed at for saying racism still exists.

Today, I’m liking this church’s style.  I like that at least six members of Gulnare Free Will Baptist Church not only said how they really feel, but they put it in writing!  There’s no wondering, no guess work.  Sure, their feelings are ignorant and socially unacceptable in 2011 and definitely un-Christ-like at any point in time.  But I think I prefer written, “I’m a racist,” resolutions than I do things like, “I’m not racist. I just knew that Barack Obama would be the worst president in history before he even took office, and I hope he fails,” or anything you could paraphrase from Rush Limbaugh’s mouth.

Or any of the shenanigans our Congress has decided to perform in lieu of doing their job and under the veil of their belief that it’s what’s best for the country.

Or loving people of all races who just don’t see color and can find a perfectly logical, non-racial answer to every aspect of social inequality and every questionable circumstance.

Or “enlightened” white people who won’t even have a conversation about race, because clearly they don’t feel the way their ancestors felt and all that’s behind us now and black people should really just let the country move on.

When I attended an Arts & Democracy workshop a couple of weeks ago, a number of social change artists who are also theater artists recalled their experiences when performing or directing historical interpretations. One had been cast often as a slave.  Another had directed plays in which white men oppressed black women and black men at different decades throughout U.S. history.  They were equally shocked at how quickly and easily people got into their roles. Not only was there unscripted ass-grabbing—from audience members,too—but also feelings of hatred, power, superiority and inferiority that carried over after the director called scene. These actors didn’t know they had it in them.

To their credit, the actors were genuinely freaked out and embarrassed by their feelings and actions.  But they are better off for having had the chance to confront it.

Most of us don’t get that chance. We just wonder if that rejection letter from a potential employer was the result of a better candidate coming along or something else.  If that person’s cold demeanor when they finally meet you, a person they’ve heard so many wonderful things about, is a reflection of their social awkwardness or something else.  If they’re following you through the store because it’s the last day of the month and they’re on commission and they’re hungry for the sale that will mean they can make their house payment, or if it’s because of something else.

If only everyone showed racism like this church.

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